


i'm watching you run from the sidelines

by thebeehive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Direction Hiatus, is it really a farm/ranch though, or just a large property lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 04:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeehive/pseuds/thebeehive
Summary: “One week,” Zayn cajoled. “C’mon Leeyum. After one week if you hate it that much, you can go. But just stay one week.”“In Pennsylvania. On your farm. In the middle of nowhere.”Liam looked at his phone, but it held no answers. Zayn couldn’t be serious. Liam hadn’t stopped traveling the world after the band went on hiatus. He never stopped. Dubai one week, London the next, and then L.A. It didn’t really matter where, as long as he kept moving. But he missed Zayn, missed his former band mate. His former friend. He hadn’t seen him in person in years. And it couldn’t be that bad, on a farm, could it?Liam sighed. “Fine. A week. But your wifi better be fucking spectacular, mate.”{Or, Zayn invites Liam to his farm for a week to help him relax. Things don’t go as planned.}





	i'm watching you run from the sidelines

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [i'm watching you run from the sidelines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21016442) by [zayncapricorno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayncapricorno/pseuds/zayncapricorno)

> Translation into Russian available: [i'm watching you run from the sidelines](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8635800)  
by [Vi_Malikova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vi_Malikova/pseuds/Vi_Malikova)
> 
> title from the song “Under the Tide” by Chvrches
> 
> I have never written a one shot before, I usually can't get away from the chapters - the result of this experiment is below, please let me know what you think about how it turned out!!
> 
> I read that Zayn was selling his New York penthouse apartment, and then I thought about all the LA houses being sold, and then this story came to me in the middle of the night, so who even knows where my mind was. (Real estate, clearly). 
> 
> NOTE: I have no idea where Zayn’s farm is/what it is like, I only know it’s in Pennsylvania. And I don’t want to know any more, so any inaccuracies are from deliberate ignorance on my part.

The interview was going fine until Liam opened his big fucking mouth.

“Where do you see yourself in the next five years?” the interviewer asked. She was a peppy blonde woman, who didn’t seem too horrible. 

“Still making music, of course. Hopefully promoting some new music; I’ve been working on a lot of new songs recently - been working with a writer who I’ve worked with before, and it’s going great. Hopefully I’ll still be involved with fashion as well, maybe doing another capsule collection.” 

Liam paused. He suddenly felt exhausted. He was in the middle of a mall, promoting his Hugo capsule collection and the opening of a new store, and he just wanted to lay down. All the yelling from the crowd, the energy he had been feeding off of, suddenly felt overwhelming. Exhausting. Before he could think, he added, “Or who knows. Five years is a long time. Maybe I’ll give it all up and go live on a nice farm, or ranch somewhere. Plant some crops, live off the land. Have a couple chickens.” He chuckled, and tried to give the interviewer a smile. But it came off more like a grimace.

The interviewers eyes lit up. Liam remembered her name was Lisa.

“A farm, really? You mean like Zayn?”

Liam almost choked. Earlier, on the plane on the way down to the event, he’d been on twitter and read that Zayn was selling not only his New York penthouse now that he was single, but his home in LA, and more surprisingly, his home in London had also been put on the market. The article mentioned he was keeping the farm in Pennsylvania. Although the article hinted that the farm may have been more of a nice house with lots of acreage, versus an actual working farm in the Rust Belt in America. 

“Zayn has a farm?” Liam lied. And then he felt even more fucking dumb. He must have the idea of living on a farm fresh in his mind. Damn keeping tabs on his band mates. But Zayn was different. He talked to Louis frequently, he didn’t need to keep tabs on him. Same with Niall. Harry and him didn’t talk as often as he did with the other two, but they still caught the occasional catch up. But Zayn. Liam couldn’t even remember the last time they texted. A year? Maybe longer? And the last time he had seen Zayn in person was maybe early 2017?

Lisa laughed. She suddenly seemed a little bit horrible. “Everyone knows Zayn has a farm. Do you guys no longer talk?” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed, a predator looking for prey. Liam and his idiocy were the prey, and she was about to pounce.

“No, no, we still talk, just you know, we talk about random things, not necessarily about each other’s properties.” Liam cringed internally. He was in a mall reminding his fans, many of them young, that he was a millionaire with multiple properties across several continents. Which was all true, but Liam wasn’t one to be tacky. Yes, he would wear a watch that cost people’s yearly salary, he could admit, but he wasn’t about to brag about owning multiple properties. The two things were different, right? He looked around at the screaming crowd. And once again, he felt so tired, so bone deep tired of it all. Maybe Zayn had the right idea.

“Anyway,” and Liam tried desperately to get the interview back on track. “I’m so excited to be here today, and I can’t wait to meet the people who were nice enough to come and support me.”

“Yes, doing a capsule collection is very exciting. Zayn worked with Versus Versace, and Harry is in the Gucci campaign right now, of course, so the former members of One Direction are really moving on up in the fashion world. Would you ever think about collaborating with one of the boys? You and Zayn, working on a capsule collection together, perhaps?”

Liam closed his eyes. Just for a moment. He could see the headlines now. All this work and promotion, and Hugo would be a footnote in the articles. The headlines would ponder whether or not he was still friends with his band mates. Band mate, really. Liam felt irrationally annoyed at Zayn. Couldn’t everyone move on? A small voice in Liam’s head, the one he usually ignored, whispered, how can everyone else move on when you haven’t moved on? Liam, per usual, ignored the voice. 

“Ah, who knows, who knows.” Liam knew his smile was fake, but at this point he didn’t care. He turned to Audra, his handler who was standing out of view of the camera, and scratched his ear. She didn’t hesitate to give the signal to the interviewer that their time was over. “It’s great that everyone’s successful doing their own thing, yeah?”

Lisa looked annoyed, but she quickly plastered on a fake smile. "Yes, great, it's great. Unfortunately, that's all the time we have for now - everyone hang tight, the meet and greet will start shortly for those with wristbands only, please."

Liam shook her hand and stood up. It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan.

Later that night, after the longest meet and greet of his life (and he had survived his fair share of meet and greets in his time), as well as an excruciating after party, Liam lay in his hotel bed, snuggled under the covers in the cool air-conditioning blasting the room, regretting his previous life choices. Well, that wasn’t quite true, he was being dramatic, he knew. He normally enjoyed parties, and he should have enjoyed this one; after all, it was celebrating the opening of a new Hugo store while highlighting his capsule collection. But he was all out of fucks to give. Liam’s current biggest regret - stating that he would maybe give it all up to live on a farm. What the fuck had he been thinking? He had gone the last couple years not really thinking about Zayn; why now, after reading one article about his personal real estate situation, was he consuming his thoughts? He wondered what Zayn did on his farm. Was he actually, like, planting tomatoes? Or did he have a studio there, where he could write and record? Knowing Zayn, he had a bevy of who knows how many animals. 

Liam still felt that bone deep exhaustion that had overcome him during the interview, but his mind was too wired to let him fall into the peaceful sleep he craved; instead, he grabbed his phone and simply googled his name. The first five stories that came up, all from various trash publications of course, had some variation on the headline “Former One Direction member Liam Thinking of Giving It All Up for the Farm Life, Just Like Zayn!”

Liam groaned. The level of asinine in the headline was ridiculous. He hoped Zayn hadn't seen any of this nonsense. Did his farm even have wifi? How far off the grid was Zayn actually living? Then Liam thought about Zayn. He had spent countless hours with the man, even if had been a long time ago. The Zayn he knew was a known online creeper. When he wasn’t posting, he was always checking his notifications: Liam couldn’t imagine Zayn going completely offline. 

Liam’s phone rang - it interrupted his gossip site scroll and startled him so much he almost dropped it on the bed. It was an unknown number, but it was from the UK. It was well after midnight. He stared at the +44 before finally answering.

“This is Liam.”

“Leeyum? It’s Zayn.” 

The voice was slightly raspy but it was all Zayn, and Liam thought he was going to have a heart attack. By thinking of Zayn so much had he summoned him, like a demon, or like fucking Bloody Mary? 

“Ah, hi. Hello. Um, it’s been a while.” Liam, atypically, felt like he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even ask how Zayn found his number, which had changed several times in the last year; he knew the boys in the band all had their own methods of getting contact information. And he once again felt annoyed at Zayn; they’d fallen out of touch to the point that a simple phone call felt awkward, when there was a time where they didn’t go a day without talking to each other. He tried to clamp down on the annoyance. “How are you? How are - things? Things good?”

There was a long pause, and Liam wondered if Zayn had seen the headlines, or if the timing was simply eerily co-incidental. Why else would he reach out, after more than a year of radio silence, though?

“Things are good. They’re really good, bro. How’s your family?”

Liam hated the stilted small talk, but at least this was something he could navigate. 

“Good, everyone’s good. My Mum and Dad are staying busy, my sisters are good. Busy with their own families. How’re your sisters? Your parents good?”

“Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Sisters are all grown up, which is scary.” There was another long pause. “Glad your family’s good. But how are you doing?”

Liam felt taken aback. He turned on his side, still under the covers, and looked at the nearest wall, which was floor to ceiling windows that looked over the beautiful art-deco Miami skyline, all lit up and shining in the night. Liam flew back to London in the morning. He should have taken an extra day to enjoy one of his favorite cities in the world, but he had been so on the go lately that trips such as this were usually a whirlwind, scheduled down to the last minute. If he were lucky, he would have time for some laps in the pool in the morning before shuttling off to the airport, and that would be the extent of his down time in Miami. 

“Good, I’m good mate. Everything’s going well. Busy, you know how it is. But good.”

Another pause. “That’s a lot of goods, for someone who's thinking about giving it all up to go live on a farm.” 

Zayn’s voice was soft and teasing, but Liam recognized the serious undercurrent, and he remembered countless hours, in hotel rooms and tour buses and backstage rooms, where Zayn would look at him with serious eyes, while Liam would pour out his latest grievance, and Zayn would listen. 

“Er, so you saw the headlines, then.” 

“I did. Went online and my notifications had blown up, and I had no idea why. And then I watched the interview.”

“Ah, well, it was kind of just a throw-away comment, living on a farm, you know.” Liam gulped, realizing his mistake. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with living on a farm, of course. I just - I mean, it was just one of those things you say in interviews.” 

He wanted to smack himself. He was digging the hole deeper. He took a breath, turning away from the gorgeous window view to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling while he waited for Zayn to respond.

“A throw-away comment, huh? You sure about that, Leeyum?”

Liam didn’t know what Zayn wanted him to say. “I mean, not a throw-away comment, just-”

Zayn cut him off. “You should come stay with me. On the farm. That’s why I called actually. To invite you to stay for a visit, for a week. See what it’s all about, yeah? Decide if it’s the life you want. You can help me plant some crops and feed my chickens.” 

Liam couldn't tell if Zayn was taking the piss or not, parroting his words from the interview back to him. "You have chickens?"

"Nah man, I'm just messing with you." 

And Liam could just imagine Zayn right now, one eyebrow mockingly raised while he calmly took an inhale of a cigarette. Liam didn't know if Zayn was even smoking at the moment, but the Zayn in his head blew out a condescending, but aesthetically pleasing smoke ring while he gently teased Liam. 

Zayn continued. "But my garden is fucking out of control this year, so I'm going to need your help weeding."

Liam didn't know what to say. He hadn't known a version of Zayn that would weed a garden. Or, maybe he didn't know Zayn as well as he thought he had - or maybe too many years had passed between the Zayn he knew then and the man he was now.

"Uh, thanks, Zayn. That's really nice of you, but, uh, I don't think the farm life is actually for me."

He knew his excuse was weak, but he couldn't actually say, I want to see you so much but I don't know how we fit together anymore, and I haven't known for a long, long time who you are to me.

"Aren't you tired Liam?" Zayn's voice was serious. "You looked tired in the interview."

"Ha - well, telling someone they look tired really just means they looked like shit you know." And Liam knew his voice was harsh, but seriously, they were finally having a conversation and Zayn said he looked tired?

"You didn't look like shit, you looked good. But you looked tired. Every time I'm online, you're in a different part of the world. You're playing some benefit concert, you're attending some fashion shit." Zayn paused for a minute. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer, and his accent thick. "Aren't you tired of always running to the next place, Liam?" 

Liam was tired. Bone deep tired, but he couldn't admit that to someone who had become a stranger in his life. But he had never been strong when it came to denying Zayn what he wanted, whether that was a Starbucks run, or a fishing trip with just the two of them in the middle of a North American tour. Liam could feel his resolve weakening. 

"I don't know Zayn, I have a lot of things coming up in the next couple months." 

“One week,” Zayn cajoled. “C’mon Leeyum. After one week if you hate it that much, you can go. But just stay one week.”

“In Pennsylvania. On your farm. In the middle of nowhere.” 

Liam looked at his phone, but it held no answers. Zayn couldn’t be serious. Liam hadn’t stopped traveling the world after the band went on hiatus. He never stopped. Dubai one week, London the next, and then L.A. It didn’t really matter where, as long as he kept moving. But he missed Zayn, missed his former band mate. His former friend. He hadn’t seen him in person in years. And it couldn’t be that bad, on a farm, could it? 

Liam sighed. “Fine. A week. But your wifi better be fucking spectacular, mate.”

Zayn laughed, a full-throated giggle, and Liam felt a wave of - something. It was like homesickness, but that didn’t make sense as Zayn had never been his home. But One Direction had been his traveling family of sorts for many years, so maybe it was just the feeling of missing those days. 

“I’ll text you the address from this number, yeah? Anytime in the next two weeks or so, feel free to come stay with me, just let me know when you’re arriving so I can make up a guest room for you. Looking forward to it, see ya soon mate.”

And before Liam could even reply, Zayn had ended the call. He stared at the ceiling, mind whirring; he suddenly felt nervous and excited all at once. Was he really going to do this, spend more time with Zayn than he had in years? On a farm, of all fucking places? Although, other than a remote island, Liam reflected, where else could the two of them spend a week of time together completely undisturbed? He wasn't sure what this strange experiment would be like, but it was only a week, what was the worst that could happen?

Liam looked out the window at the passing scenery. Trees and more fucking trees. Not that he didn’t appreciate trees, or nature in general, but trees were the ONLY thing he had seen for the last hour. After landing at the airport, the car he had arranged to take him to Zayn’s farm had been waiting, and he was an hour into the drive - the driver had only just let him know they would be there in another twenty minutes or so. 

Liam was both impatient for the arrival and dreading it as well - he played over the conversations he’d had the last week before packing a single suitcase and letting his team know to cancel all his appointments as he was taking a personal week. He didn’t have anything important on his schedule, thank goodness, no performances or awards shows or anything like that, the only thing he’d had to cancel on was a fashion fundraiser appearance, which was an easy one as he would simply send a generous check in his place. 

When Audra, his primary assistant and organizer of all things, had inquired if he was going to visit his parents, he’d just vaguely mentioned going stateside, maybe New York for a week. She hadn’t pushed further. 

The first person he had told was Louis. 

“A week with Zayn on a farm? Really Liam.”

Liam waited for more, as Louis usually had a lot to say about things like this. But there was silence. Liam looked at his phone to make sure the call was still connected.

“That’s it? I tell you I’m going to spend a week with Zayn, who I haven’t seen in years, and I’m going to his fucking farm, of all things, and you just say ‘really’?” Liam didn’t know what type of reaction he wanted from Louis, but this wasn’t it. If he was being honest with himself, which he currently wasn’t, out of respect to his OWN emotions, he wanted Louis to talk him out of it. Or at least act shocked.

“What do you want me to say?” Louis said reasonably. 

Liam didn’t want reasonable Louis. He wanted dramatic, over-the-top Louis. 

“I don’t know. I just thought you’d have more to say?” Liam was trying to pack his suitcase, but he didn’t know what to bring. He wanted to pack clothes that would work on a farm, but like, clothes that would still make him look good. He rolled his eyes at himself. Who was he trying to impress, the fucking chickens? Then he remembered: there were no chickens. Well, he certainly wasn’t trying to impress Zayn. 

“Have fun living off the land, good luck milking a cow.”

Niall was next. He wasn’t any more helpful than Louis had been.

“Ah, Liam that sounds like fun, tell Zayn I miss him, yeah?”

Liam was suspicious. “When was the last time you talked to Zayn?”

“Ah, I think it’s been a couple months since we had a good chat, miss the bloke. Oh - commercial breaks over, sorry, mate, got to go.”

And Niall hung up because his fucking golf match was on, and Liam was left to wonder how himself and Zayn had fallen out but Niall still talked to him? Every time he had caught up with Niall, he’d never mentioned he was still in contact with Zayn. Liam felt annoyed again.

Harry was probably the least helpful of them all. 

“Listen, Liam, chickens are tricky yeah? I mean, when I was holding a chicken- “

“Harry, when the fuck was the last time you held a chicken?” Liam was exasperated. 

There was a long pause. “Did you miss my Gucci campaign last year? There were chickens, and goats. Anyway, you have to be careful, holding a chicken, it’s not as easy as it looks. You’ll probably have to pick them up to get the eggs everyday, yeah?”

Liam remembered the infamous Gucci ads with Harry and the chicken. How could he possibly have forgotten. “Zayn doesn’t have chickens, mate.”

“Well, ok, but in case he does-”

His parents were the last ones he told. 

“I think it’s great that you and Zayn are reconnecting, he was always my favorite.” His mother’s reaction was exactly as he had expected it to be.

“Tell Zayn we miss him, and be careful, farms can be more dangerous than you think.” His father’s words of wisdom were not lost on Liam.

“I don’t think it’s actually a farm -”

“Well, son, be careful either way.”

His mother added, “A week in the country sounds so nice and relaxing. We should really look into booking something-” 

Liam stopped listening as his parents started planning their next holiday.

“Here it is.” The driver cut into Liam’s thoughts; the car had stopped in front of a large white house. Liam peered out the window - his week in the country had arrived. He texted Zayn a simple, “I’m here”, and almost instantly received a response.

“Come to the front door”

Liam took a deep breath. Time to gird his loins, or whatever the saying was. 

Zayn answered the front door in simple light wash jeans and an over-sized white shirt with a smattering of small holes across one side. His feet were bare, and his hair was so long the ends curled up and brushed the collar of his shirt. Liam studied his neck tattoos, which he had only seen in photos. Because this was Zayn and life was unfair, even at his most casual and relaxed in his own home, he looked like a living photo shoot. It was the eyelashes and cheekbones and tattoos, and the way he wore his clothes, and - Liam stopped his train of thought.

“Uh, hi.” Liam didn’t know what else to say.

To his surprise, Zayn stepped forward and enveloped him in a full hug; his chin dug into Liam’s shoulder, and Liam, via muscle memory or his own traitorous brain, relived every hug he’d ever been on the receiving end of in Zayn’s wiry arms. The hug was long, and he forced himself to relax and hug back with one arm, as his other arm held his duffle bag. 

Zayn let go and pulled back. His smile was small, but his eyes sparkled and he sounded genuine when he said, “Didn’t think you’d actually come, but I’m really glad you did. Ready for a tour?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Can’t wait to see this famous farm I’ve heard so much about.” Liam gripped his bag tighter, and followed Zayn into the house.

Liam was not surprised to learn the farm was not actually a farm, or at least, hadn’t been one for a long time. As Zayn walked through the house, he explained that the original house was quite small, but over the years new rooms and additions had been built on. Zayn pointed out how the floors and walls didn’t match across the house, giving a living history of when each room had been added on. Several years ago, the previous owners had spent a fortune updating and modernizing the entire structure, before selling it off to go retire in the southern part of the country. That’s when Zayn had bought it.

It was easy to see where Zayn had put his personal touches to the house. A beautiful room with huge windows was converted into an art studio, covered with huge canvases with bold lines of graffiti streaking every which way and endless cans of spray paint covered a long table that stretched the length of the room. There was a luxurious home theater in the basement, and another room was turned into a gym with free weights and a full sized punching bag hanging from a reinforced beam in the ceiling. Yet another room was a music studio - Liam looked at the studio longingly. It was small, but fully equipped, and the walls were covered in all sorts of posters and pictures, forming a vast collage that he wanted to study further. Liam took it all in, asking minimal questions, just letting Zayn’s voice, accent thick as ever, wash over him as he gave details to the history of the house.

“So, no chickens man?” Liam teased. He had put down his bag in the room Zayn indicated would be his for the week, and they had continued the tour to the back door of the house, where Zayn pulled on a pair of dirty, chunky brown boots. 

“Nah, no fucking chickens. Just the dogs and my garden.” The dogs, all three of them in varying sizes, had bounded over when Liam first entered the house, and once they had satisfied their curiosity by sniffing every inch of his legs and his duffle, had bounded off again.

Zayn looked down at Liam’s pristine white trainers. “Here, put these on.” He indicated another pair of boots next to the back door. They were black and chunky and looked brand new. “It’s been raining all summer, it’s really muddy out there.”

Liam took off his trainers and put on the boots. They fit perfectly. He looked at Zayn, who was watching him with a put-upon innocent expression on his face, eyes wide and eyebrows slightly raised.

“Zayn, did you buy these for me?” Liam knew, after years of clothes swapping with Zayn while on the X factor and on tour, they could usually share any shirt or jacket as long as it wasn’t too small, but Liam couldn’t fit into Zayn’s pants, his waist and thighs not as lean, and he couldn’t wear Zayn’s shoes, since he ran a size and a half bigger than the other man. 

“Figured you wouldn’t have packed the right shoes. White trainers, really Leeyum?” Zayn smiled and headed out the back door, and Liam just shook his head, ready to view the garden Zayn seemed so proud to show off.

The first day on the farm consisted of a grand tour and then Zayn cooked a delicious dinner of spag bolognese. Liam had forgotten how good Zayn’s cooking was; he tried to offer his assistance in the kitchen, hinting to Zayn that his own cooking skills had improved leaps and bounds over the years, but Zayn had merely waved him off.

“They’ll be plenty of chance to cook later in the week, yeah? Just relax, tonight you’re my guest.”

“Technically I’ll be your guest the rest of the week too.” Liam smiled, taking a sip of the cold beer Zayn had offered him from the well stocked fridge. He wondered if Zayn always kept this much food and drink on hand, or if it was only when guests were imminent; but it wasn’t like he could just order food via Seamless like in New York. 

“Nah, this is a working vacation, didn’t you know.” Zayn turned from the stove top, where he had been stirring red sauce in a large pot with a wooden spoon, and grinned at Liam, tongue sticking between his teeth. 

“I know, I know. The garden’s not going to weed itself.” Liam took a large inhale - the entire kitchen, which was large and airy and light, just like he had imagined a farmhouse kitchen to be, smelled of tomatoes and spices and simmering meat and Liam’s stomach growled - he hadn’t eaten anything since the plane. 

Zayn’s smile dropped off his face, and he turned to the stove, his back to Liam. He had tied a black apron over his clothes, the front which read “I’ll Feed All You Fuckers.” It was very Zayn.

“Liam.” He paused in his stirring, but didn’t make eye contact. “Yeah, I’ll need some help weeding. But other than that, I meant what I said. You’re my guest. And I want you to relax. Do whatever you want while you’re here. You can use the gym, you can use my studio - the music or the art one. You’re welcome to anything, ok?”

Liam gripped his beer tightly. He didn’t understand why Zayn had invited him to what was obviously his sanctuary off the beaten path. He knew none of the other boys had been here, and he wondered, other than family and maybe some close friends, who else had been lucky enough to be welcomed to the farm.

Liam tried to relax his grip on the beer. He set it down on the nearby counter, and folded his arms across his chest. What had Zayn seen when he watched that interview that made him reach out to Liam after so long? Surely it couldn’t have been the mention of giving it all up for a farm; there had to be more to it than that.

“Zayn, when you watched the interview, why did - what made you call me?”

Zayn kept stirring for a minute, before taking the pot off the stove, and pouring it into the large bowl that already held the pasta. He put down the spoon, and turned towards Liam, untying his apron. 

“Right before you said you’d give it all up to live on a farm, you’d been talking about your next capsule collection, and writing new music. But then-” Zayn paused, setting his apron aside and beginning to portion out servings of the bolognese from the big bowl into two smaller bowls. He picked both bowls up, and started walking out of the kitchen. “Grab my beer and the forks and napkins, yeah?” 

Liam grabbed the beer bottles and the small stack of napkins and utensils laid out, and followed Zayn out the back door, where a large, screened in porch wrapped around the back of the house. There was an outdoor dining setup, and they sat down, facing the backyard and the garden. Liam wasn’t sure what time it was, as the time difference between London and east coast America was a six hour difference and he hadn’t looked at his phone since before Zayn started cooking dinner, but at this point jet lag was a constant state of being. The sun hadn’t set yet, and the temperature was still warm but not hot.

Zayn continued. “You were talking about music and clothing, and then you stopped. And there was this expression on your face I’d never seen before. You looked tired, but not just normal tired. You looked-” Zayn sighed. 

Liam had been in the middle of stuffing his face, as he’d been ravenous. He swallowed as quickly as he could. “I looked like?” He prompted.

Zayn sighed again, twirling his fork through the pasta. “I can’t even describe it, you just looked so done with everything. And I’ve never seen you look like that. And Liam, I know you. You never stop. You haven’t stopped since the hiatus. You haven’t stopped since X Factor. The first time, really. Have you stopped to breathe since you were fourteen?”

Liam stopped eating and looked towards the green tangle of the garden. He decided to be honest with Zayn. It was easier to be honest when there was no one around, no cameras, no interviewers, no one to impress. Not that he didn’t want to impress Zayn, but old habits die hard, and he had always been more honest with Zayn than almost anybody else in his life, except maybe Andy. 

“Before I went on X Factor - the first time, I mean. You know, or well, I told you a long time ago. My father used to drive me, everywhere to perform. It didn’t matter if it was in front of old people, or at a fair, or a pub. And I’m glad, I’m so fucking glad he did.” Liam felt a fierce wave of affection for his father. “Because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t have been ready for X Factor. I wouldn’t have been ready for any of what we went through. Any of this now. But, yeah, it’s been going on long before I was fourteen. It’s kinda like being on a treadmill. And it’s going so fast, and you’re on it for so long, you can’t hop off, you know?”

Liam felt a little laid bare by the confession. Even when he had started seeing a therapist, in the midst of the worst of his drinking, he didn’t know if he’d really been that honest. He had returned to therapy, seeing someone else, the past couple years when his anxiety became so bad he could barely leave his house without an impending panic attack. Both times, his therapists and him had worked on developing healthy coping mechanisms to deal with his issues. And they had certainly dived into his past. But somehow, Liam had never realized before this moment, just how long he had been on the treadmill, unable to leap off for even a moment, for fear of everything crashing to a halt.

He looked up at Zayn, who had pushed away his pasta and was drinking his beer, his dark eyes on Liam. He set down the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. Can I bum one?”

Zayn nodded, fingers brushing Liam’s as he handed over a cigarette. He lit the end for him, then leaned back and lit his own. They both sat there for a moment, the sounds of a country evening, birds and the rustle of leaves, all around them as they smoked on the porch. 

“Well, then, let’s work on getting you off that treadmill for a bit, yeah?” Zayn tone was light, but his look was intense. 

Liam just nodded, watching the smoke drift about his head. He wanted to, he really did, but it was all he had ever known. 

Day three on the farm and Liam had settled into a routine. Was it really a routine if it was only the second full day he’d been here, he wondered, considering the first day was the tour and dinner, and then Liam called an early night so he could adjust to the time change.

He woke up the next morning and it was very early. Zayn had told him the previous night he wasn’t an early riser, and Liam was relieved to know some things never change, even the small, seemingly insignificant things. He decided to start off the day by going for a run. 

The rest of the day, and then the next day, and then the days to follow went like this:

Liam woke up early, right before the sunrise. He threw on his workout clothes and went for a nice long run, just him and the sunrise and the birds that were equally surprised and thrilled by the sunrise every morning, no matter how many times they had previously welcomed the day. He wanted to run along the farm’s vast property, but Zayn had warned him most of the land hadn’t been cleared properly in decades, and if he tried to run the perimeter he would meet all variety of snakes, gopher holes, and impossible to run through bushes. So Liam ran along the long road Zayn’s property was off of. He ran on the pavement, and when he could feel the strain along his shins, he switched to the narrow grass shoulder that ran alongside the road. 

When he ran he tried to clear his mind, similar to when he did yoga; he tried to live in the moment, feel the ground beneath his feet, focus on his breathing, and appreciate the endless ribbon of green trees along his path. 

After looping back after a couple hours, he showered. The guest room he stayed in was at the opposite end of the long second floor hallway where Zayn’s bedroom was, and had an adjoining bathroom, so he didn’t need to worry about waking Zayn with his morning noise.

Then he headed downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast for him and Zayn. That first morning, in the midst of scrambling eggs and frying up bacon and toasting bread and slicing avocados, he stopped to wonder if Zayn even ate a big breakfast in the morning, but decided he could always wrap up any leftovers for later.

Zayn came down as Liam plated up the food and switched off the very fancy cappuccino machine, which beeped steadily, announcing the foaming and frothing and brewing were finished.

As promised, Zayn was not an early riser, and was still, and probably would never be, a morning person like Liam was. He was grumpy and rumpled and quiet in the morning, but Liam didn’t mind, as Zayn’s soft “thanks Leeyum” as he pushed his wild bed head out of his eyes while reaching for the plate of food proffered, was enough to fill Liam with a sense of contentment. Zayn and him ate in silence, while Liam drank his second cup of tea and Zayn downed his coffee. 

After breakfast, Zayn dragged him out to the garden, and they would spend the morning weeding, raking, watering and weeding some more. Zayn showed Liam the difference between everything he planted - there were still green tomatoes, and cucumbers and all sorts of peppers, and huge squash, and row after row of pretty much anything one would desire in a vegetable garden. Liam was excited about the long row of what would one day be large orange pumpkins.

“What do you do with all the extras?” Liam asked one morning. Even if Zayn had frequent visitors, there was no way he would be able to get through the vast quantities of vegetables. 

Zayn was bent over, pulling up a stubborn weed. He had taken off his shirt, and the sun glinted off his familiar fantail tattoo, and the newer, large cityscape tattoo underneath. “I give some of ‘em to one of the neighbors to sell at the farmers markets and donate the rest to a church in a town about twenty minutes down the road.”

Zayn patiently taught him how to spot the different varieties of weeds, and how best to pull out each one, as well as how to repair the fence that ran around the garden that kept the rabbits out. They both wore thick gardening gloves, and Liam knew he was in excellent shape, but after a couple hours his back would need to be stretched out and he could feel the strain in his arms. Gardening was no joke.

After a quick lunch of sandwiches thrown together, Zayn would retreat into his music studio. Liam burned to join him, but he also wanted to give Zayn space, aware that they hadn’t spent this amount of time together since the days of the band, and he didn’t want to be a clingy guest either way. 

So he checked his email and his notifications and retweeted and liked some posts, perused new music, and when he was restless and tired of being online, he wandered down to Zayn’s art studio. He had been given carte blanche to use anything in the studio, but Liam wasn’t really into graffiti art the way Zayn was. So he borrowed a small sketchbook and some nice pencils since he had left his own set back in London, and spent the afternoons drawing on the back porch. He worked on a detailed sketch, inspired by a photo he’d taken on his phone of the Thames River on one of his early morning runs last month, and then he moved on to sketching the garden or whatever else caught his interest. 

Later in the afternoon, Zayn would come collect him from the porch and they would spend some time in the home gym. Once again, Liam was rapidly propelled down memory lane, remembering afternoons spent boxing with Zayn; that had been one more thing they discovered they had in common back then - teen years spent boxing, and so they would go, round after round, sparring with each other and taking turns with the boxing pads. Sometimes Liam would look at Zayn and try to remember him as he had been back then - less ink, rounder cheeks, but eyes still the same intense hazel. He thought about the years that had passed since then, and the ways they had changed, both together and apart.

And that was the tricky things about the time he spent on the farm - Liam felt like time was on an elastic band, stretching endlessly out, allowing him to look back into the past and to peek into the future, but then it would snap him quickly back to the present, where time felt suspended. Outside the bubble of the farm, life continued on. There were commitments Liam would have to get back to - dinners and shows and signings and everything that came with being a pop star in the current age.

But on the farm, it was just him and Zayn and their little routine, and while Liam had worried he would be bored, he settled into the routine so easily he didn’t pay the passing of days any mind.

And so he woke up, and he ran, and he cooked breakfast and ate with Zayn and then tended the garden with Zayn, and then sketched with only the dogs and the back porch to keep him company, and then boxed with Zayn, circling around and around, sparring and moving his feet while his past flashed before his eyes. 

At dinner they would take turns cooking. Liam tried to pull out all the stops to impress Zayn with his cooking, and considering the amount Zayn put away he felt vindicated. Evenings were spent on the porch, sharing music with each other. 

They didn’t talk much at first, but gradually they slipped back into how they used to be. The first couple nights they discussed in more detail what their various sisters were all up to, and how their parents were doing. They mentioned people they both knew, various band members and security and minor celebrities, and what they were up to. Then they moved on, discussing movies and documentaries they’d both watched, the latest music they couldn’t stop listening to, and then ideas they had for their own songs. 

And so the routine continued on. And Liam didn’t know if he could truly breathe yet, but it was nice to block out the rest of the world, if just for a moment. 

Day seven came and went, and then Liam looked at his calendar app and realized he had been at the farm for nine days. Shit. He had overstayed his welcome by several days, and Zayn had been too polite to say anything. 

That night at dinner, Liam was anxious. When he was anxious, his perfectionist tendencies came out in full force. He had cooked a full roasted chicken that was way too much for just him and Zayn. He’d made a salad full of the first vegetables from the garden, and he’d roasted cauliflower.There also a truffle mac and cheese, which Liam didn’t even want to eat - and yet he had spent a fair amount of time perfecting the cheese sauce. Zayn’s eyes had widened when he came into the kitchen and saw the extent of the food spread out. 

Liam had left the farm for the first time in nine days that afternoon. Instead of the time he usually spent online, he’d taken the pickup truck in the attached garage at Zayn’s insistence (and Liam couldn’t fathom Zayn Malik owning a pickup truck, but the times they were a changing he supposed) and drove to the nearest store, which was twenty minutes away, near the church Zayn had told him about where he donated some of his vegetables. He dreaded having the conversation with Zayn - the - I overstayed my welcome by two days when you were already too kind by inviting me to stay here for a week after we haven’t hung out in years - conversation.

But the worst part was Liam didn’t want to leave. Not just yet. He finally felt the constraints, the yoke that tethered him to the treadmill, start to loosen and allow him to take the tiniest of breaths. He was by no means free, and probably never would be, but even the smallest weight lifted off his shoulder made him realize just how heavy the burden he’d been carrying, including the self -inflicted one, actually was. 

No one bothered him at the store, and Liam was relieved, returning to the farm to finish cooking.

Eating on the porch, Liam looked over at Zayn. The night was unusually cool, and it looked like rain could fall at any minute. The air felt cool on Liam’s neck after cooking in the kitchen all evening. 

Zayn had pulled on the only hoodie Liam had brought, and it happened to be the one he had helped design for his Hugo collection. Seeing the chevrons on the back of the hoodie on Zayn, had filled Liam with a strange feeling. And of course, only Zayn could nick his clothes when they were at HIS home and Liam had only brought a weeks worth of clothing. He wore one of Zayn’s simple black shirts that night, so he didn’t say anything about the hoodie.

They had been eating in silence, but it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable, and that in itself made Liam feel warm. He was so worried before he came to the farm that the years of silence would translate into awkward, stilted moments with Zayn, but it was like boxing - he slipped back into the ring, and after a bit of warm up, all the moves and the skills came back instantly. It was like muscle memory with Zayn - his body and his mind remembered what to do, even if Liam doubted himself. Or themselves, or their friendship, or any of it.

“Something on your mind?” Zayn drawled, and Liam realized he’d stopped eating and was staring at Zayn, lost in the past.

Liam took a deep breath and then decided to rip off the band-aid. “I, uh. I’m so sorry, Zayn. You invited me out here for a week, and I completely lost track of the days. I’m having such a good time here - a good time with you, spending time here with you. And then today I looked at my calendar and I realized I overstayed by several days, but you - you’re too polite and nice to say so and I-”

“Liam.” Zayn looked at him, those dark eyes assessing, and he tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m not that nice and polite, really. I knew what day it was and how long you’d been here. I just wanted to see how long it would take you to realize. Is that what this fancy roast is all about? Am I eating a guilt roast?” Zayn shot him his signature smirk, lips pursed and lifted up, head tilted to the side, while his long hair framed his face in swoops and pieces.

Liam felt himself turn red. The roast was partially out of guilt, but he also enjoyed cooking, and he really wanted to show off his culinary skills to Zayn as much as he could, while he could.

“Ah, well. I realized. And I’ll leave first thing in the morning, of course, just need to arrange a driver-”

“Liam.” Zayn cut him off again, and dropped the smirk. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay, as long as you want, yeah? I know I told you a week, but it’s an open invitation, really. I don’t have much going on the next couple months. Stay as long as you need to stay.”

“I can’t just drop into your life and disrupt everything like this.”

Zayn pushed away his plate, grabbed a cigarette and lit it up, taking a long drag. Instead of offering Liam one like he usually did after they finished dinner, he passed over the one he already started. Liam hesitated, then wrapped his lips where Zayn’s lips had just been, and tried not to dwell on it. He took another drag, then passed it back, brushing his fingers against Zayn’s fingers. He felt the cool air on the back of his neck again, and tried not to stare at Zayn smoking, but he couldn’t help it.

Zayn took a long inhale, and blew out. “Liam. You didn’t disrupt anything. I like having you here. I like the company. I like YOUR company, it’s nice, you know? It’s been so long. And we never had free time like this back in the band. And you look - you look happier. Less tired. Are you breathing a little easier?” And Zayn took another inhale and passed the cigarette back. 

Liam reached forward and held out his fingers, but didn’t take the cigarette yet. “Yeah, yeah. It’s a little bit easier to breathe out here.” He took the cigarette, and looked down at the table. “Thanks Zayn. Thank you,” he added softly, not looking up.

“Anytime, Liam. Anytime.”

The next morning, Liam went about his routine as usual - early wake up, long run, cooking breakfast, and gazing fondly at Zayn’s bedhead over eggs and coffee and tea. Instead of weeding, they passed the morning picking vegetables and putting them into large bins. They had enjoyed the first vegetables of the summer in a salad the previous night, but these vegetables were set for Zayn’s neighbor and the farmers market, and the rest were set aside to be donated to the church Zayn had mentioned.

After lunch and before his boxing time with Zayn, instead of scrolling through all his socials, Liam started making calls from the guest room. He got himself comfortable on the bed. First up was Audra.

He liked his assistant because she wasn’t one to waste words.

“Another week in the states Liam? What day are you flying back to London then? You have a charity dinner at the end of next week.”

“Well, uh, here’s the thing.” And Liam knew nothing anybody wanted to here ever started off with that statement. “It might be more than a week.”

“What do you mean, might?”

Liam could picture Audra’s right now - she probably had on a hands free headset while she looked at his schedule, answered an email, and got a pedicure - she was a multi-tasking wizard. 

“Well. I mean. It could be a week. Could be more than that. Um. You know? I’m not sure right now, things are up in the air.”

Liam gnawed on his thumb while there was silence for a moment. Chewing his nails was a bad habit he had tried to break, but he still chewed on his thumb when stressed. 

“Will you be back for your birthday? You have a birthday dinner scheduled with your family and friends on the 28th. And then on the 29th is a birthday celebration with friends in London..”

Liam looked down at his phone. That was in twenty days. 

“Yes. I’ll be back then. Or, I’ll fly back on the 27th.” 

Another long pause. “Are you in New York?”

“Um, no. Actually, I haven’t been staying in New York.”

“L.A.?”

“Noooo. Not on the west coast at all.”

Audra’s voice was grave. “Liam, if you’ve met someone, we’ll need to let the rest of the team know.” 

Liam bit his thumb, hard. “Fuck.”

“Liam?”

“Sorry, sorry, bit my thumb. Uh, no, it’s not like that. Haven’t met anyone, I’m in Pennsylvania, actually. On a farm.”

“Are you - are you on Zayn’s farm?” Audra’s normally calm voice sounded a bit incredulous.

Liam was flabbergasted. “How’d you know?”

“Um, everyone knows about Zayn’s farm. But, Liam, does anyone know you’re staying there? If this gets out.” She doesn’t finish the thought.

“I know, I know.” Liam could only imagine the headlines. Twitter would lose it’s shit. And tumblr. He shuddered. “My parents. And the other boys. That’s it. No one else knows I’m here.”

Audra’s tone was back to all business. “Ok, then let’s keep it that way. Here’s everything you’re going to cancel on, or will need to be rescheduled -”

Thirty minutes later, and double the amount of money that Liam was going to spend at several charity events (if he couldn’t show up in person the least he could do was give more money, he thought, ignoring the rising guilt) he hung up with Audra. Liam never, ever cancelled on things he had already committed to, with the exception of falling ill. He tried not to think too hard about his choice to stay longer on the farm. He knew he would stay the moment Zayn had offered an extended visit, but he didn’t want to examine it all too closely yet. 

Next up were his parents.

“Ah, Liam are you back in London? You should swing by next weekend for a visit. Although your birthday will be a couple weeks after that.” His mother sounded happy to hear from him, as always.

“I’m actually not back yet.”

“Oh, did you have an event somewhere?”

“Uh, no, I”m still on the farm.” Liam started chewing on his thumb again, even as he was irritated at himself for doing so.

“Oh, that’s lovely dear. So glad you are spending time with Zayn. Please tell him we send our love, of course.”

His father spoke next; he was on speaker. “Are you coming back next week then? I’ll be down in London on the 16th and 17th, maybe we can grab dinner?”

“Uh, actually, I’m not coming back until the 27th.” Liam was relieved that Audra was taking care of booking his flight and making all arrangements for a driver and travel. “But I’ll be back in time for my birthday, and the dinner and everything, so looking forward to seeing everyone.”

There was a pause. Liam tried to imagine what room his parents were speaking to him from. The kitchen? No, dinner was well over, being so far ahead in the time zone. Maybe the living room while they relaxed and watched a movie? He chewed on his thumb harder. 

His mother spoke first. “Well, that’s so nice of Zayn to let you stay for an extended visit. I hope you get him a nice gift for the trouble.”

And that wasn’t a bad idea. Although Liam had no idea what type of gift best said, thanks for a rekindled friendship and letting me house crash for a month. 

“He doesn’t mind you staying a month, son?” His father was more to the point.

“Ah, no, no. He doesn’t mind. I wouldn’t overstay my welcome you know. Wouldn’t dream of that.”

The last phone call wasn’t a phone call, but a text to Louis that simply said - 

“Won’t be back to London until the 27th.”

Then Liam took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to the art studio to sketch, waiting for Zayn to finish up in the music studio so they could rejoin in the gym. He left his phone on the bed. 

The next day Liam accompanied Zayn as he drove the pickup truck to his neighbors place to drop off the vegetables. 

“You must really like your neighbors if you give them free produce,” Liam teased. “Or, they must really like you if they’re willing to sell everything for you and take it off your hands.”

The window was rolled down, and his mood was light and happy. He held his hand out the window, feeling the warm breeze weave through his fingers, as the blur of green trees sped by. Zayn wasn’t the best driver, he was overly cautious and slow, but he seemed comfortable enough in the truck.

“Ha, well, I actually pay them to board my horses. So, the vegetables are just like a bonus thanks, yeah.”

Liam turned from the window to look at Zayn in shock. “You have horses?”

“Two horses.”

“What are their names? How long have you had them? Do you ride ‘em?” He had so many questions. 

“Lightening and Neptune, had ‘em for a couple years. And yeah, I ride them.”

“Oh, cool.” Liam looked back out the window. “Can we ride them today?”

“If you want. Have you ridden before?”

“Couple times,” Liam said, trying to sound nonchalant. He was not by any means an experienced rider, but as long as the horses went at a slow pace, he figured he’d be fine.

After unloading the bins of vegetables, they wandered over to the stables. Zayn talked to the neighbor while Liam met the horses. Lightning was very tall and white all over, while Neptune was a bit smaller and had a beautiful coat of dark grey with hints of blue. He instantly fell in love with Neptune, and was stroking his side and telling him what a beautiful boy he was, (and he was, and he needed to hear it, Liam thought), when he heard Zayn clear his throat behind him.

“You ready?” Zayn was smiling, but Liam refused to feel embarrassed, he was just trying to bond with the horse, was all. “Do you want to ride Neptune then?”

“Yes, we’ve become quite good friends in the last five minutes, and we have more to discuss.”

Zayn laughed. “I’m sure you do.”

Zayn showed him how to saddle Neptune, then he quickly got Lightening ready, and they rode out together. Liam was grateful that Zayn kept them at a sedate pace as they walked through the neighbor’s extensive property.

“We’ve done a lot of things together over the years, but this is a first for us - riding horses together.” Liam enjoyed guiding Neptune, who seemed very calm and sedate. Lightning was more of a handful, he seemed high spirited and more prone to ignore direction, but as Zayn was the more experienced rider, Liam was glad to be on the smaller horse.

“I’m surprised we didn’t do a photo shoot with horses,” Zayn laughed, stroking his horses mane. “We did every other type of fucking shoot.”

“There were a lot of puppies over the years,” Liam agreed. 

He looked over at Zayn; he was impressed with his riding - Zayn’s usual slouch was gone, his posture was straight, and he leaned forward ever so slightly, he looked, Liam thought, like a natural. And he was beautiful. The thought took him by surprise; everyone knew Zayn was objectively beautiful of course, that was no secret, but watching him atop the horse, he was struck by how much he, himself, found Zayn to be beautiful. It wasn’t one particular thing - his jeans were ripped and his shirt was a plain black t-shirt, and his hair was a mess, but he looked, Liam realized, genuinely happy. And that thought, in turn, filled Liam with happiness and peace, to see his former bandmate, his friend, who had been through so much over the years, look happy and at peace and regal on the large horse, like an off-duty prince. 

He shook his head; his thoughts were really getting carried away. He petted Neptune’s lovely mane, and whispered in his ear, “We really need to meet other people, might be developing a mild case of Stockholm Syndrome, yeah?” Neptune shook his head and snorted; he was a smart horse, he agreed.

Liam looked up to see Zayn watching him, a fond smile on his face. He smiled back, and they rode on, under the warm summer sun, the breeze gentle on their skin.

As the days passed, Liam spent less and less time online in the afternoon, and more time in the art studio or sketching on the back porch, and before he knew it, he’d been at the farm for twenty days. Not that he was counting the days, exactly. Ok, maybe he was trying not to count DOWN the days. He had ten days left until he left the farm and flew back to London. The second set of ten days went much like the first. Sometimes, instead of working in the garden, Liam would walk the property with Zayn, listening to his plans for converting the barn, or clearing an acre or two to plant an apple orchard, or they would take out one of Zayn’s ATVs and ride along the perimeter, checking the fence for holes or damaged sections. He found out that Zayn preferred to have his food delivered, but occasionally Liam ran to the store to pick up something extra. He was never recognized. 

And sometimes, instead of boxing, there was archery. Zayn had taken Liam out to a nearby field, where hay bales with targets attached to their fronts were set up - and Liam never ceased to be amazed how Zayn thought of everything. Watching Zayn pull back the bow, tendons stretching and veins visible, he had thought how Zayn always surprised people with his hidden strength. Yes, he was skinny, but he was lithe with muscle; after several weeks watching Zayn in the garden, watching him let go of a bow string to see an arrow strike its target, and especially, boxing with him, he was reminded again just how strong Zayn could be.

Liam had always enjoyed boxing. Boxing with Zayn was no exception. They had spent countless hours training together and separately on tour, and Liam remembered being thrilled when he discovered he had a boxing buddy in One Direction then he found out that Zayn had also boxed as a teenager, long before joining an internationally famous boyband.

One afternoon, Liam held the boxing pads while Zayn hopped from foot to foot, pulling back and hitting as hard and quick as he could. Liam kept Zayn guessing, moving the pads up and down, forcing him to duck and weave and hit. At one point, Liam moved his right arm back to try to get Zayn to reach across with a left jab, but Zayn misjudged the distance and ended up punching Liam in the side. It wasn’t that hard of a hit, but it caught him unaware, and it threw him off balance, causing him to topple to the ground. They practiced on mats, so it didn’t hurt, but he lay on the ground for a moment, catching his breath.

“Leeyum!” Zayn said, but he was laughing. He stood over Liam, one leg on either side of his torso as if to help him up, but then he unexpectedly dropped to his knees, sitting down on his stomach. 

“Oooff,” Liam groaned. “Zayn get off.”

Zayn leaned forward, and punched the pads, without any real force behind the hits, which Liam still had strapped on, while he started humming ‘Eye of the Tiger,’ which quickly evolved into him BELTING out the song.

“It’s the - eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight - blah blah blah.” He lost the lyrics only to pick them up again, and Liam joined in. “- our rival, and the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night!”

Liam couldn’t stop giggling, , and he blocked his face with the pads while Zayn continued to gently hit them. He finally stopped, and Liam moved the pads away from his face, to see Zayn looking down consideringly at him He could feel the heat from where Zayn sat on his stomach, and he could hear them both breathing heavily. He looked back up at Zayn, refusing to be the first one to break the moment. 

“Glad you’re here,” Zayn said quietly, then got off of him and took off a glove and helped pull him back up. 

He looked at Zayn, face covered in a light sweat, his hair held back by a black headband, and he thought, this. I could do this all day. He wasn’t sure if he was thinking about boxing with Zayn, or simply being with Zayn, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such a deep sense of contentment. 

And then it was the night before Liam was to head back to London. Zayn had insisted on cooking, and it was spag bolognese again, like it had been that first night. Unlike the first night, there was no hesitancy or awkwardness between the two. Liam kept Zayn company in the kitchen the entire time he cooked. And unlike the last month, he drank more than just a couple beers. By the time dinner was ready, Liam was well on his way to being buzzed. Zayn, too, had drank more than he usually did. They ate dinner on the back porch, and kept drinking. After dinner, Liam started to clear away their dishes, somewhat unsteadily, but Zayn grabbed his arm and said,

“Nah, leave it. Follow me, I want to show you something.” 

He kept ahold of Liam’s arm, and he didn’t question it, just grabbed another beer and followed Zayn out the back porch door, through the backyard past the garden, and instead of heading to the archery field, which was a short walk, Zayn turned sharply left and headed toward a wooded area. The dogs bounded behind them, yipping and running ahead, only to run back to see what was taking the humans so long to get to their unknown destination.

Liam had seen a lot of the property during his stay, but he didn’t remember going through this particular part, as Zayn led him past trees and more trees, before the area thinned out into a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood a small gazebo, painted a light blue, with two lounge chairs and a small brown trunk nestled between them.

Liam noticed the trunk was locked, and then Zayn pulled out a long chain around his neck from out of his shirt; there was a key attached, and he opened the trunk and pulled out a plastic bag and rolling papers. 

“You keep your stash out here?” Liam asked.

Zayn laughed. “Nah, just a little bit. Most is in my studio. You know, I’ve barely smoked since you’ve been here. You’ve killed the vibe, mate.”

Liam was confused and his feelings were slightly hurt. “Uh, sorry? I didn’t realize my being here was killing - the fucking vibe, or whatever.”

Zayn smiled while they sat down, and opened the bag and began to expertly roll a joint, thin fingers quickly moving over the paper. “No, no, not like that. It’s just - in the afternoon, when I’m writing, or coming up with melodies or fucking around with whatever in the studio, I always smoke. But, with you here, we’ve been boxing, or going out to do archery, and shit, so I haven’t been smoking all afternoon like I usually do. It’s fine, Liam really, a break from smoking won’t kill me, but today I really missed it.”

Finished with rolling, Zayn took out his ever handy lighter. Liam leaned back in the lounge chair, the padding, upholstered in a soft black fabric, was surprisingly comfortable. 

Although he would regret it in the morning, he took the joint when Zayn offered; he was already feeling pleasantly buzzed, may as well say fuck it and get faded as well, he thought.

They passed the joint back and forth. Liam relaxed, but he began to feel like his muscles and skin were pulling away from his bones; it had been too long since the last time he smoked, let alone smoked while already buzzed, and his joints felt so loose he he was worried he would pull apart at the seams. He giggled.

Zayn turned to him, eyes hooded and lashes sooty in the fading light. The sun had just set, but the sky hadn’t finished the full metamorphosis to its night time shades of dark blue and black. 

“What’s so funny, Leeyum?” he demanded.

Liam giggled again. “Everything’s funny man. Or, nothing really. Just being here, ya know? You and me, on a farm. I just - life is funny, you know?”

“Oh shit,” Zayn shook his head, but he smiled. “I forgot you become a fucking philosopher when high.”

“No I don’t,” Liam contradicted. It was his turn with the joint - he inhaled, feeling the thick smoke coat his mouth, his throat, and when he exhaled he coughed a little, out of practice. But then, he’d never really smoked back in the days of the band, that had always been more Zayn and Louis’s thing. 

The evening and the smoke wrapped around him, warm like a blanket, and he felt so loose. His joints were loose, his thoughts loose, his tongue loose in this mouth. “Zayn, I just want to say thanks. Like, I can say it, but I don’t know if you’ll ever really know how much I mean it. The past month, well. I needed it. I really, really needed it, and I didn’t know how much I needed it until I got here. But, I don’t know how I can ever repay you -”

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was raspy, as raspy as it had been that first day he had opened the door to let Liam in to his house. “You don’t need to repay me. Ever. Friendship’s not like that. We help each other, yeah? If you need help, I help you. And if I ever need help - I know you’ll be there for me.”

Liam turned in the chair, facing Zayn, who held the joint now. “But. I wasn’t there for you. For a long time. We didn’t even talk, I didn’t know what you were doing, how you were. I didn’t know.”

Zayn inhaled from the joint, and Liam watched the tendons in his neck, and he remembered watching Zayn on the archery field, seeing the tendons in his arm as he pulled back the bow, and although he knew, Liam KNEW, that Zayn was a living, breathing person, covered in sleek muscle and with blood thrumming under his skin, he needed to touch Zayn, and feel that life under his fingers, and he had to do it right now.

He reached out and grasped Zayn’s left wrist, which lay on his chest while the other hand held the joint. He felt the pulse in his wrist, in the warmth under his fingers. Zayn was alive, and he was here, and Liam was with him, and all was right in the world.

“Liam, it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. That’s what matters.” Zayn took another hit, glanced at Liam out of the corner of his eye, and added, so casually Liam almost missed it - “You can come back, you know. I know you have shit to do in London, shit to do all around the world, but. You can come back, mate. Anytime. You should. If you can, if you. Well, if you want to.”

Liam turned Zayn’s wrist, keeping two fingers on the pulse, while staring at the intricate design of his mandala tattoo. He still felt warm and fuzzy, and he couldn’t look away from the mandala pattern; it was like trying to solve an unsolvable maze. 

“You mean it? You wouldn’t mind if I came back?” He tore his gaze away from the tattoo and looked up to find Zayn already looking at him.

“Yeah. I won’t mind.”

Liam felt like he was sharing a secret with the night time and the gazebo and Zayn. “Ok. Yeah. I’ll come back one day.”

The morning of his birthday dawned overcast and gray and muggy. The perfect summer day in England, Liam thought grumpily. The grumpy may have been in part to the previous night - after a lovely dinner with his family and friends from home, he’d gone out with friends afterwards, quite late into the night, and then came back and crashed at his parents' house. Tonight was round two of his birthday celebration, in London this time, but he had a good chunk of time to recover before having to get ready for the car that would take him down to the city. 

Between that and the jet lag from being back home for less than 48 hours, he had no idea how late he’d slept in. He grabbed his phone next to his bed; it was almost one. He groaned, he never slept in this late. There would be no run today. 

The first day back he got off the plane in London and drove straight to his parent’s house. His mother and father had taken one look at him and asked if he was eating enough. Liam was confused; he had done nothing but eat large meals the entire time at the farm, in addition to drinking several beers with dinner most nights. 

“You look so lean though, honey,” his mother said, concerned, when Liam protested that he had eaten quite well the past month.

Later that night, after showering while getting ready to go out for his birthday dinner, Liam took a long look at himself in the mirror. It’s not that he hadn’t paid attention to his appearance while staying at the farm, but he never really left the place, except for the occasional run to the store to get groceries. And then he realized he’d spent every day waking up for a long run, then spent hours in the garden and working outside, followed by boxing or archery in the late afternoon. He had eaten large meals, but they consisted of eggs and vegetables and meat, and any pasta and carbs he ate had certainly been burned off. He looked at himself in the mirror - his stomach was very defined, his arms were cut but not as bulky as they usually were. His face looked thinner. He had long struggled with fixating on body issues as a means to focus on controlling something in the midst of the chaos that was his life, but at the farm he had just existed.

He took a long shower and put on his softest pair of joggers, and wondered what his parents fridge held in the way of breakfast. Or, lunch more like, he thought, considering how late it was. Before he could go investigate the kitchen he heard his phone buzz; he reached for it from where he’d left it on the bed, and smiled. Zayn.

“Hullo there.”

“Hey, Leeyum. You up?”

“Course I’m up. Hungover, but alive. You’re up early.”

Zayn laughed, husky and pleasant over the phone. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Happy Birthday mate!”

“Thanks Zaynie.” The nickname just slipped out, but it was his birthday, and Liam refused to feel guilty or embarrassed about anything. 

“You ready to open presents?” Zayn asked.

“Yeah, I was about to start without you,” Liam teased.

“Ha, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” Zayn said, then demanded, “switch over to face-time, yeah?”

The morning Liam left the farm, Zayn had pressed two well-wrapped gifts into his arms, and insisted he not only wait until his actual birth date to open them, but he had to do it with Zayn over the phone as well, so he could witness Liam’s reaction to the gifts in real time. Liam had laughed and then given Zayn the ‘thank you for the long, long visit/host gift,’ and made him promise he would also wait to open the gifts, so they could do it at the same time. 

“Since I missed your last birthday and all, it will be like a double celebration,” Liam said.

Zayn rolled his eyes but acquiesced.

Liam went over and grabbed the gifts from where they were sitting in his duffle, then climbed back on his bed, leaned against the frame so he could stretch out his legs, and switched over to face-time. He saw Zayn stare back at him; he was wearing a black shirt, hair a wild mane, and was on his back porch, as Liam could see a tiny corner of the yard and garden in the background. 

Zayn blinked, and looked at Liam in his shirtless state. “Naked now, are we?” he said slyly. 

Liam tried not to blush, and moved the phone down to show he was only shirtless and wore joggers. When he raised the phone back up, Zayn’s expression look dazed, and he realized he had just given Zayn a view of his chest and abs on his way down to showing his pants. Could he have been anymore suggestive. Well, he would just play dumb, while trying not to blush. 

“You go first mate,” Liam said.

Zayn shook his head, then nodded. He propped the phone up on something, so Liam could see him grab the first of the two presents he had wrapped for him. It was the smaller box, and he felt his stomach tighten; he really, really wanted Zayn to like the presents.

Zayn unwrapped and then opened the small box. He looked for a long moment at the contents of the box, then looked up at Liam on the phone. 

“A butterfly and a bee?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Uh, well, you know, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. You know, the greatest, Muhammad Ali. We spent all that time boxing together, and I just thought - but like, it’s not just the boxing. You remind me of both, you know. Like, you’re beautiful, like a butterfly, but you can be sharp and quick like a bee, and you always wear rings, so I just thought.” 

Liam felt himself blush for real this time. He hadn’t meant to say the second part of that sentiment. Of course, obviously Zayn was beautiful, everyone knew that, but should he really be telling his former band mate and friend that while he opened jewelry Liam had just bought him? 

Zayn’s silence was making Liam nervous; he didn’t say anything, but he took out the two chunky silver rings - the butterfly ring had four little red stones set in the engraved wings; the bee ring had yellow and black stones, and the bee was set in an oval setting - and looked at them for a long moment, before putting them on.

“They fit ok?” Liam said nervously. He had tried one of Zayn’s rings on his own fingers to get an idea of fit, since Zayn’s fingers were more slender than his own.

“Yeah, yeah. Fits good.” Zayn looked up, eyes big and serious on the screen. “Thanks, Leeyum. I love them.”

“Uh, glad you do. Now, open the other one.” He was suddenly even more nervous about the second gift after seeing Zayn’s reaction to the rings.

Zayn grabbed the other gift, which was larger but flat and thin, and quickly pulled off the paper. He looked at it for a long moment, like he had the rings. He looked up, expression dazed again, and then looked down again. It was a small drawing, a sketch in pencil Liam had done of Zayn, from memory. He had sketched him in the archery field, it was a side profile view, of Zayn pulling back the bow string, arrow about to take flight, arm muscles showing the strain, back flexing, showing the pure strength it took to draw back the bow. Liam had been transfixed the first time he had seen Zayn with a bow and arrow, and committing it to paper had not been a choice, but rather a necessity. 

“I can’t believe -” he stopped, then smiled, the full Zayn experience smile, as Liam privately referred to it as, with his eyes squinting and tongue poking between his teeth. “Open yours.”

Liam didn’t hesitate, propping his phone up on the bedside table and turning so Zayn would have a clear view, he grabbed the bigger of the two gifts and quickly tore the paper. He was holding a drawing in black ink, of himself, done in a highly stylized comic book manner - he was in Zayn’s garden, surrounded by a tall tangle of weeds, and he held aloft a pair of garden shears, wielding them as if they were a broad sword, that looked to be the only thing preventing the weeds from swallowing him up. His expression was serious, focused with brows furrowed and lips pursed.

Liam loved it. And he couldn’t believe that Zayn and him had both given each other drawings they had done of each other on the farm. He looked up.

“Zayn, this is amazing. I love it so much, I love everything about it - you drew me like a superhero, yeah? I could be the amazing weedman. Or, wait, people would misconstrue that, but you know what I mean.”

Zayn was giggling, but then he stopped. “Open the other one, c’mon.”

“Ok, ok, hold on.”

Liam took the smaller box, and removed the paper as quickly as he could. He opened the brown box. Inside was a bracelet made of think woven leather with a tiny silver charm on it. Liam picked it up and looked at the charm: it was a small boxing glove. He almost stopped breathing for a moment, and he had to blink back the tears that threatened to make an appearance. 

He looked up at Zayn, who watched him, a small smile played at the corner of his lips. 

“Are you fucking telling me that - “ Liam couldn’t finish that thought.

Zayn smiled. “Yes, we fucking did.”

Liam shook his head. “We literally both got each other boxing themed jewelry and drawings of each other, I. Wow. Fuck.”

“It’s some psychic shit for sure.” Zayn agreed.

Liam stared at the Zayn on his phone. He suddenly had an urge so strong to pull Zayn into his arms for a long hug that it was like a physical ache. He thought about his schedule for a minute. Audra would freak out (well, she never freaked out, she would simply be annoyed, but it couldn’t be helped). 

“Um, Zayn, you know how you said. How you said before I left, that if I wanted to come back. Or, if I needed to come back to the farm, you wouldn’t mind?”

Zayn slowly blinked. “Yeah. And I meant it. When do you want to come back?”

“Now,” Liam blurted out. “I mean, not like today, but as soon as possible. Can I?” And he held his breath. 

Zayn nodded. He didn’t hesitate, not for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah. Come as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting.”

Four days after his birthday, Liam flew back to the states. He called Audra and they tried to hammer out his schedule. He would have to fly back in two weeks to perform at a benefit concert he’d already committed too, and do some promotion for Hugo, but then he could return for another two weeks before he had to leave again. 

When he had told her he was returning to Zayn’s farm, she simply asked, “Do we need to tell the rest of the team anything?”

Liam tried to be casual. “No, no. Just spending some time with an old friend, you know?”

“Hmmm.” Audra didn’t ask anything else.

His parents did ask. 

“You’re going back to Zayn’s again?” His mother gave him a soft smile. He may be grown, but in some ways he would always be the baby of the family. “Are you and Zayn getting close again, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s been really nice to re-connect and spend some time together.” Liam tried not to chew on his thumb. Instead, he played with the mini boxing glove charm on his bracelet. They were sitting in the living room, his parents on the couch and himself in an over=sized chair, watching a movie the day before he was to fly back.

“How long will you stay this time?” his father asked, pausing the movie.

“Uh, a couple weeks, then I have to fly back for a benefit concert.”

“And then what are your plans after that?”

Liam stopped playing with the charm and started chewing on his thumb. “I might, uh. I might go back to Zayn’s again for a couple more weeks.”

“Darling, are you and Zayn just friends?” his mother watched him closely. 

“Yeah. We’re just friends.” Liam looked at his bracelet again, and felt a rush of warmth, followed by a rush of longing. He had started feeling restless after a couple days back home. He needed to see Zayn. He didn’t understand; he had spent years not seeing him, and sure he had missed him and thought of him, but it had been less than a week since he’d hugged Zayn goodbye, and only a couple of days since they’d face-timed. They had texted frequently since then, finalizing Liam’s arrival time and talking about random shit, but it wasn’t enough. He felt a physical pull for Zayn.

“You never told us what he got you for your birthday,” his father said. He was looking pointedly at Liam’s wrist. While he always wore nice watches, he rarely sported bracelets, and he hadn’t taken off Zayn’s gift since he’d opened it, except to work out and shower.

“Well, he got me this bracelet,” Liam held up his wrist. “And he gave me a sick drawing. He made me into a superhero of sorts.”

His father tilted his head. “And what did you end up giving him for a host gift?”

Liam paused. “Well, I got him a couple silver rings, that had to do with boxing, and I actually gave him a drawing as well, funnily enough.”

His father raised his eyebrow. “What was your drawing of?”

“Um, my drawing was of him. With a bow and arrow, he’s really good at archery, you know, he has a whole set up in one of his fields, and he’s ace at shooting the target.”

“So,” his father drew out the word. He exchanged a glance with Liam’s mother. “You both got each other jewelry and a drawing you both personally drew, featuring the other?”

Liam didn’t say anything, but he went back to chewing on his thumb. When his father said it in that tone, it did sound suspicious. 

“Liam.” His father’s voice was gentle. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”

Liam shook his head. “Nope. Nothing happening.” 

Louis once again surprised him.

“You have fun. You two crazy kids be safe.”

“Louis-” Liam was in the car on the way from the airport to the farm again; this time the blur of green trees only made him more excited, knowing he was almost there. 

“That means use protection, Liam. Make sure you wrap it up.”

“Louis!” Liam sighed. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Louis said airily. “Of course it’s not like that. Just two bros spending time on a farm together. Nothing gay about that.”

“Lou. Nothing has happened. Like, nothing. We’re just friends, you know. Catching up.”

“It took you a month to catch up?” Louis said. Before Liam could formulate a proper rebuttal, Louis added, “ And the gifts you got each other? What kind of sappy shit even?”

Liam regretted telling Louis about the gifts. It’s just, he had been so excited to share. Zayn was just so talented, after all, and he loved the drawing of himself in the garden a whole fucking lot. 

The car pulled to a stop. “Sorry, got to go. Talk to you later, love you Louis.”

“Love you, too. Remember, consent is sexy!”

Liam made a face and ended the call.

He texted Zayn, “I’m baaaack! Out front now :)” and hit send before he could overthink it. The driver helped get his bag out of the car, and this time he’d brought a large suitcase instead of a duffle, even though he had to leave in a couple weeks. 

Liam was nervous. Again. This time it wasn’t the nerves of seeing a friend he’d lost touch with, rather, his entire body vibrated, eager to be in Zayn’s presence. But would Zayn be as excited to see him, too, he wondered. He walked up and lifted his hand to ring the bell, when the door swung open. The dogs were there, barking in their excitement, and then Zayn gently pushed them aside. He was shirtless, hair pulled back into a small bun, and he had his familiar “I’ll Feed All You Fuckers” apron on. He rested his hand against the doorway, and Liam felt a small thrill when he saw he was wearing both the butterfly and the bee rings on the first two fingers of his left hand. His expression was solemn, but his dark eyes sparkled.

“Welcome back, Leeyum.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond, to say something eloquent, but all that came out was, “Hey,” and then his body was reacting before his mind could catch up, and he let go of his suitcase and wrapped his arms around Zayn, drawing him into a tight hug. He didn’t let go. He felt Zayn wrap his arms around himself, and his sharp chin dug into his shoulder. Liam breathed him in. He smelled of smoke and the garden and fresh sweat and spices from whatever he had been cooking. Liam couldn’t get enough, and smelled him again, putting his face in the crook of Zayn’s neck, and still he didn’t let go. He could feel the warm, bare skin of Zayn’s back under his hands, and he wanted to trace the cityscape tattoo. And it hit him, standing in Zayn’s doorway: he wanted to do a lot of things that friends didn’t usually do with each other. And what kind of friend did that make him, really. He stepped back.

“Hey.” He didn’t know what else to say. “It’s good to be back. I know it’s only been a couple days, barely a week really, but I kept thinking about the farm. I kept thinking about you, and I just. Thanks for letting me come back.”

Zayn smiled, and shook his head. “It’s good to have you back. Get in here, the dogs are going nuts. I’m cooking, so go put your stuff in the room, take a shower, or whatever. Then come down to the kitchen.”

Thirty minutes later, showered and changed out of his travel wear and feeling much refreshed, Liam walked into the kitchen. It smelled amazing. Zayn was still shirtless under the apron, wearing a pair of basketball shorts, and Liam helped himself to a beer from the fridge, and watched the play of muscles across Zayn’s back while he worked over the stove top.

“Need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. Hope you’re in the mood for spicy chicken.”

“I’m in the mood for whatever you’re making.” Liam was sincere, but then realized how that sounded. 

Zayn chuckled, but didn’t respond, except to say, “It’s ready. Bon fucking appetit.”

After dinner on the porch, Zayn suggested a movie and Liam agreed. He would feel the effect of jet lag soon, and if he had still been in London he would have been in bed by now; sitting on a couch in front of a screen sounded like his exact energy level right now.

They had spent dinner talking about music, and Zayn had asked if Liam wanted to come hang out in the music studio the next day. He was excited; the entire length of his first stay at the farm, he had been dying to go into the studio with Zayn, but he wanted to give him his space. But the old days of staying up late into the night with Zayn while they wrote songs and created melodies to go along with their lyrics were fresh in his mind, and he was eager to recreate that magic.

Instead of going to the home theater room, or even the smaller living room with a television, Zayn led Liam up to his bedroom. The last month he’d stayed at the farm, he’d only been in Zayn’s bedroom a handful of times, and usually only to snag a t-shirt. The room was surprisingly clean, as there were usually clothes scattered everywhere, and the bed was large and inviting with a dark blue quilt spread on top, and a large influx of pillows stacked against the plush leather headboard.

“Go ahead and get comfortable.” Zayn gestured to the bed as he went and grabbed his laptop from the nearby desk. 

Liam hesitated. Zayn had an entire theater room and he wanted them to watch a movie on a small laptop screen on his bed. Ok. He carefully climbed on the bed and arranged the pillows behind his back and head as he leaned back against the headboard. Zayn climbed up next, laptop in hand, and sat down right next to Liam, thigh to thigh. He put the laptop on their legs, then threw his arm around Liam’s shoulders and snuggled up against him. 

Liam stiffened, just for a moment, before forcing himself to relax. He tried not to think about the old hot tub meme: just two bros watching a movie on a laptop on a bed, zero feet apart. Louis’s last words on their phone call echoed in his mind. 

Liam hadn’t paid any attention to the movie. He only focused on the warmth of Zayn against him. He’d taken off the apron to eat dinner and had never put a shirt on, and was still bare chested. 

“I love your red wolf tattoo.” Liam cursed his lack of filter around Zayn.

“Thanks mate.” Zayn didn’t look up from the screen. 

“But I love all your tattoos, they suit you so well, you know.”

This time Zayn did look up. His face was very close. Liam couldn’t see much beyond Zayn’s eyes, large in the reflected light from the laptop screen.

“Thanks Leeyum.” His voice was soft, and his lashes were very long. 

“I missed you.”

Zayn looked down at Liam’s left arm, which was resting on his lap. He reached forward and played with his bracelet, twisting the small boxing charm in his fingers. He looked back up, but didn’t let go.

“So you already said.”

Liam’s nerves were on fire, but he kept pushing forward. “I know. I just needed to say it again.”

“Yeah?” Zayn’s voice was husky. “You missed me?”

“A lot.”

“What did you miss about me?”

“Uh.” Liam felt flummoxed for moment. “Everything really. I missed your cooking. I missed watching you in the archery field. I missed spending time in the garden with you. Boxing. I missed boxing with you. And eating dinner on the back porch. I fucking missed all that.”

Zayn closed the laptop, and set it aside on the bedside table. Then he slowly, deliberately swung his leg over and straddled Liam’s lap, his eyes never leaving his face.

“Well, I fucking missed kissing you.” He leaned in, face so close Liam almost went cross eyed. 

“But, we haven’t kissed since-” Liam couldn’t even remember how long it had been at this point. It had been in the early days of the band, him and Zayn messing around one day. It had been more than just a joking kiss, but it hadn’t quite reached a full makeout.

“I know.” Zayn breathed against his lips. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

“Zayn.” Liam felt helpless. “That was so long ago. Why didn’t you say something?”

Zayn sighed. “Liam. Neither of us were in the right place for something back then yeah?”

“Why’d we stop talking Z?” Liam had wanted to ask that question since the night Zayn had called him and invited him to the farm for the first time. 

Zayn was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know, really. Like, it wasn’t all of a sudden, it was kind of gradual. I guess just life, it happened.”

“I don’t want to lose touch again. Now that I have you back in my life again, I - Zayn I want to keep you around.” Liam closed his eyes at his confession, embarrassed.

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was so soft. “You’re stuck with me now.” 

He leaned forward, and his lips brushed Liam’s; they were soft and and sweet, and the years didn’t matter, the lost time didn’t matter, Liam thought, all that mattered was Zayn in his lap and against his lips. They kissed gently for a long minute, then Liam pressed forward, deepening the kiss; he opened his mouth, and licked at Zayn’s lips, until he opened his mouth. 

Liam licked into Zayn’s mouth, then reached up and put his hands on Zayn’s narrow waist, and slowly dragged him forward.

Zayn groaned into his mouth: he rolled his hips down and he started sucking on Liam’s bottom lip. He pulled back for a moment.

“I dreamed of those lips.” He was panting slightly.

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Fuck off. You know what your lips are like.” 

Liam innocently shrugged, but he could feel his body, sparking like a live wire. He was getting hard in his pants under the weight of Zayn in his lap. He rolled his hips up and pulled Zayn down against him, still gripping his waist. He wasn’t the only one getting excited.

Zayn leaned forward and kissed him again; his hands went around Liam’s neck, and he felt the muscles up and down his back, before moving to grip his shoulders, then running his hands down his arms, squeezing his biceps. Zayn was already shirtless, but Liam had the urge to strip both of them so they could rub against each other, bare skin on bare skin.

Liam pulled back. “What was I doing? With my lips, in your dream.”

“You are a fucking tease, Leeyum.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “Giving me a blowjob.”

Liam’s hips jolted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your lips. On my cock. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Hmm. Want to make your dreams a reality?”

Zayn groaned. “That was fucking lame.”

Liam smirked. “You’ll be singing a different tune when you’re coming down my throat.”

“Fuck, Liam.”

Liam didn’t hesitate to roll Zayn over so his back was against the pillows, then he pulled down Zayn’s joggers. He wasn’t wearing underwear and he was already hard.

“Fuck, Z. You look so good like this.” 

Zayn sighed, and ran his hand through Liam’ hair. 

“You sure about this” he asked.

Liam could hear Louis voice in his head, ‘consent is sexy.’ He tried not to giggle.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure, you have no idea.”

He leaned down, and traced his tongue over Zayn’s tattoos on his chest; he never knew how badly he wanted to do that, but he couldn’t stop - the taste of Zayn’s skin, the warmth, the small noises he made, Liam was addicted. 

He delicately took a nipple between his teeth, and carefully bit down.

Zayn arched under him, and moaned. Liam moved across his chest, tongue tracing the dark black wingspan, and gently bit down on his other nipple.

“Fuck, Liam, that feels good.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Liam licked and bit down the planes of Zayn’s stomach. He licked the hair below his navel.

“Fuck. Stop teasing.” 

Liam licked again. “If you say so.” He reached for Zayn dick, giving it a couple strokes, then put his mouth around the tip.

“Ah, that’s it, feels good. Just like that.” Zayn tightened his fingers in Liam’s hair.

He sucked harder, then took opened his throat, and slowly, so slowly, sucked Zayn’s cock further into his mouth, until he was he was swallowing around the head. He breathed through his nose and his eyes watered, but he held steady and swallowed around it again.

“Fuck, fuck. Your mouth, Li.” Zayn squirmed beneath him. “Better than I could have imagined.”

Liam hummed, and began to move up and down, creating a steady rhythm.

“Babe, you look so good,” Zayn gasped. “So fucking good, your mouth. You looks so fucking hot, taking my cock.”

Zayn’s filthy praise spurred him on; he could feel his own dick getting harder, leaking at the tip, and he started rubbing against the quilt, hips humping faster because it felt so good, spreading his wetness around while the friction made him groan, deep in his throat. 

“Fuck, Liam, ‘m gonna come soon babe.” 

Liam looked up, Zayn was looking down at him, face flushed eyes lidded, eyebrows furrowed in consternation, lower lip between his teeth. He looked so fucking gone that Liam almost came right then.

He sucked harder, Zayn moaned again, and LIam’s cock twitched so hard he shuddered from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, Li. Shit babe, so good. Going to come.” Zayn gasped. 

Liam reached up and twisted a nipple, hard, while he swallowed around the head of Zayn’s cock again, and that was it, Zayn arched again, his eyes shut tight, face almost looking pained in his exquisite pleasure, and Liam felt warmth fill the back of his throat. Liam rubbed against the bed harder, unable to hold back any longer watching Zayn come undone above him, and came in messy ropes all over the quilt, hips pumping..

“Ah, feels so good, fuck.” Zayn panted and sank back against the bed, while Liam shuddered one more time, then pulled off.

His throat felt tender and his lips felt swollen, and he felt so, so relaxed. 

Zayn reached forward and gently ran a finger along Liam’s lips.

“You’re fucking lips, Liam. So hot, ugh.” 

Liam licked his lips, and nipped Zayn’s finger. Zayn giggled, then looked down. “I was going to return the favor, but did you…?”

Liam blushed. “Uh, well. You looked so good, I kind of just. I couldn’t help it.”

Zayn smiled, then said lowly, “Get up here.” He helped haul Liam up, out of the mess he made, and laid next to him on the pillows. He leaned forward and kissed him, causing his mouth to tingle with how sensitive his lips were.

Zayn leaned back and whispered against his lips, a secret for the two of them. “So glad you’re back. So glad you’re back home with me.”

And Liam tried not to think of the farm as HIS home too, but Zayn was here, and where ever Zayn was, he realized, was where he wanted to be. He didn’t say any of this, but he leaned forward and kissed Zayn with all the feelings in his heart. 

The next day in the garden, the sun was hot and Liam’s back hurt. He’d barely been gone a week but weeding seemed to be the hardest exercise. He looked at Zayn, who was right next to him, picking tomatoes.

“When will the pumpkins be ready?” The pumpkins were Liam’s favorite but they were still green and not as big as he thought proper pumpkins ought to be.

Zayn looked up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was wearing a loose black tank, and Liam wanted to bite his shoulders. 

“You mean when will they be orange instead of green? Early October.”

“Oh.”

“You plannin’ on being here come October?” Zayn’s voice was casual, but he stared intently at Liam.

“Well, I have to leave in a couple weeks, but after that- don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know.”

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was deadly serious, his eyes were fierce in the bright noon sun. “You’re always welcome. Understand? You are always welcome here. Or, like, in any home I own. Anywhere in the world. Wherever I am. A hotel room. A boat. A tent. It doesn’t matter, yeah? You are always fucking welcome.”

Liam tried to turn and wipe at his eyes without Zayn noticing. He noticed.

“Li, c’mere.” 

“Zayn, I- “ Zayn grabbed Liam’s arm, but he had been resting on his heels and they both toppled over.

And nestled between the row of tomatoes and the row of cucumbers, they fell into the dirt and kissed and kissed, and even though his mouth was occupied, Liam felt like he could take a deep breath for the first time. He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are life, thank you!!


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